


Brother's Gonna Work It Out

by SmackTheDevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, England (Country), Explicit Language, Funny, Heartbreak, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4916827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters' are having a dry spell with boredom driving them both crazy, until a case in England takes them away from home. New tensions rise and hunting takes a back seat as Deans' mouth threatens trouble between the brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother's Gonna Work It Out

Dean Winchester chuckled at his own joke. Which was usually the case.

“Canoodling!” He laughed again.

“Seriously. Dean?” Sam Winchester shot his brother a frown.

Sam had been typing away and making notes on his laptop for days. His brother was getting restless. Drinking too much and making jokes. The alcohol had induced repetition. The same joke over and over. 

It had been the longest quiet spell they had ever encountered. Cas was off doing angel things. Nothing sinister had flagged. No one had come knocking for help. It was all quiet on the Winchester front.

Sam was excellent at keeping himself busy. Falling into internet rabbit holes. Chasing up anything that sounded remotely like a case. He'd run every day at the crack of dawn when Dean was still snoring and greasy from the booze and burgers the night before.

Dean, on the other hand was like a bored child. Worse than a bored child. More able to express his boredom than a child and a darn sight hornier. Sam had woken early many a morning, just at sun-up which happened to coincide with 'Little Dean-Up'. He was kind of used to it. Had seen it dozens of times. But just recently he hadn't immediately felt compelled to throw a blanket over it. 

The biggest complaint was that they had found themselves in a town with one gas-station with limited and questionable groceries stock. No bar. No strip-joint. No nothing. With resources running low there was little else they could do.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“I'm bored.” Sam mouthed the exact words as his brother spoke. 

“You know what, Dean? I'm pretty bored myself.”

Dean brightened a little. A comrade in Boredom-town!

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” Sam stood up. His huge frame blocked the already limited sunlight creeping through the grubby drapes. Towering over his seated brother. Cabin fever had suddenly gripped him like a vice. His quiet patience now broken. “I swear to God. Dean. You're driving me crazy. The only reason you're not where I am now is because you've replaced your entire personality with alcohol. I've been sitting here for days trying to find us a case while you filter cheap whiskey through your liver.” Sam stepped forward. Then frowned as his brother cowered slightly.

“Sam. I mean..” Dean held his hands up and laughed softly. Defensively curling his legs from under his brother and standing to face him.

“I mean it, Dean. Crazy!”

“When you say crazy. You mean like regular person crazy or demon-blood-junkie crazy?!”

That was it. And Dean knew as he hit the floor faster than he could take in his next breath.  
Sam shook his hand before sucking his newly bruised knuckles. All Dean could do was nod. He agreed with the situation he had found himself in as if Sams' fist had instantly sobered him up.  
Sam being Sam offered his brother a hand up. Dean took it.

“We have a case. If you're still interested. How would you like a trip to England?”

Dean had laughed and then sauntered off to the bathroom to check his face. Slightly red under one eye. He shrugged. He had looked a whole lot worse. 

“Did you say England?!” He called out from the bathroom. “England U.K England?”

“Is there any other?” Sam was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Ignoring his brother peeing. He was grinning. Dean knew this grin. It was the 'nerd-grin'. The 'I've really found something, but you'll hate it grin'.

“So this Canoodling place.”

Sam interrupted. “Canewdon”.

“Hey Sam, you say Canewdon, I say canoodlin'!” He laughed, shivered and then shook his cock. Sam didn't laugh. Except his head was half-cocked. Miles away.

Dean turned around in response to his brother's silence. Still nothing. Dean knew.   
“See anything you like buddy?” He zipped up, clocking Sam 'acting-normal' by shaking his head and pretending he was thinking about the potential case. Dean wasn't convinced. He playfully slapped Sams' arm as he squeezed past him. 'Cabin fever has got you good.'

Dean bounced onto his bed, crossed his booted ankles then folded his arms. “I'm all ears ass-butt. Come at me!”

Brushing aside his small inappropriate indiscretion and Deans' childish name-calling, Sam began.

“Okay. So this village Ca..” Sam shot a look at his brother who was doing his very best 'I'm listening-and-nodding' face which was also repressing a smirk. “This village. The one I mentioned. It's been pretty quiet since the witch-trials of the 14th century.”

“Witch-trials”. Dean echoed. “Go on.”

“Yeah, witch-trials. Anyway, I think we may have started a paranormal ripple effect. A 'Tsunami of the Supernatural'. I mean all those years back. The Devil's Gate, it had huge repercussions around the world.”

Dean held up a hand.

“Supernatural Tsunami?”

Sam puffed his chest out with pride. “I came right up with that!”

“You're a nerd. But continue.”

Refusing to allow his brother to deflate his excitement, Sam continued.

“There are all kinds of superstitions and folklore surrounding the village. Including the old church. I mean this is pretty ancient stuff. There have been disappearances, a couple of people have turned up dead and pretty messy.”

“They don't have hunters in England?”

“I mean yeah they do but dude, they could use our help.”

“I ain't being a pain in the ass about this Sammy, but we have pretty limited funds.”

Sam went on to explain that during the past few days, days which his brother had spent in an inebriated haze, he had made contact with a British hunter based on the east coast of England. It turned out that witch-trials didn't have much to do with the job. But an abundance in demon activity did. And this was something new. Something steeped in a history the brothers hadn't encountered before. It was a regular job fraught with danger but one which brought with it a new kind of lore. 

“So, shall we chance it? I know you say we have limited funds an' all, but you're right, I am going crazy here. Can we please?” During his speech, Sam had sidled up to his brother on the bed, just on the edge. His feet still on the floor.

“Can we please what, Sammy?” Dean smirked and glanced at Sams' hand on his upper thigh.

Sam snatched his hand away knowing no excuse on earth would wash.

“Can we please go to England?”

Dean slid himself up from the bed, snaking his body around Sams'.

“I guess. Yeah, why not right? I mean the cars will be awful small and the beef will be as crazy as hell, but you know what Sammy?”

Sam stood up, excited and relieved with the prospect of having something to focus on. “What?”

“Anything can happen in England.” Dean grinned and slapped his baby brothers solid thigh. “Let's pack!

 

Dean hated flying. He hated traveling and not being in control. He also hated airplane liquor. Stupid miniature bottles. Stupid budget airline.

Sam, on the other hand, was fine. A little long for budget air travel, but a problem solved by frequent walks down the aisle. Half of the time his legs were fine, the other half it was to save his ears from his whiny little bitch of a brother. Dean must have been verging on wasted when he agreed to this trip, Sam thought to himself.  
He almost didn't care. A change of pace was something they both needed.   
Things had been so quiet and they had become sort of insular and private. As alone as a couple can be.  
Sam had noticed that Dean hadn't gotten laid for a long while. And he himself just didn't feel that way inclined.   
Well, he had but not in any way he wanted to welcome. Their dynamic had changed. It was unspoken but on occasion screamed at both of them. Sam hated every thought that ever entered his mind.

Returning from a leg-stretching sojourn Sam sat next to his brother, pulling his long legs up towards his chin and then maneuvering them underneath the tiny tray in front of him.

“Where have you been?” Dean, head tipped back, was sucking on a small plastic miniature whiskey bottle, determined not to let a single drop go to waste.

“Bathroom. Took a walk. Was thinking about stuff.” Sam chuckled to himself. “Regular 'Sam' stuff.” 

Dean let his head flop forward then waved the empty bottle of whiskey at Sam.

“Regular 'Dean' stuff!”

Sam laughed and nodded.

“Right.”

Then silence. Weird silence. That awful crippling first-date kind of silence that makes you want the ground to open up and swallow you.   
After about 5 minutes of awkward shifting and half smiles, Sam spoke.

“Do you think we spend too much time together?”

“Huh?”

Sam turned stiffly and winced as his left leg twisted uncomfortably underneath his seat. 

“Dude! Why did you say that? We've been together since pretty much forever. Well, until you had that crazy college idea. And we all know how that went.” Dean almost smiled but stopped when he realized he was pushing it a little. Sam let it pass.

Sam clutched his twisted leg and grunted softly. 

“I know that. I mean we have no friends. It's literally us. Don't you think that's kinda, you know, weird?”

Dean frowned at his brother.

“You want to talk to me about fuckin' weird. Us? Our life. The fact that, the only other person in our lives who we could call a friend is a fuckin' angel of the fuckin' Lord! Jeez, Sam. You know what, yeah, you're weird. You're being weird right now.”

Dean was becoming unnecessarily angry and looked ready to climb up out of his seat and over his brother. Sam gripped him arm. 

“I'm not starting anything here. You know that, right? I just..” Sams' fingers loosened their grip from around Dean's arm, his gaze, though. That was fixed tight. Tighter than any grip he could manage. He didn't blink, he just sat there. Eyes locked with his brothers.  
Sam knew that Dean knew. And Dean fucking hated it.

Dean wrenched his arm away with such force, the row of full and empty whiskey bottles bounced off the tray and into his lap. 

“Don't!” 

Sam leaned back in his seat. A seat so narrow and pointless he could still feel his brother up against him. No matter how much he moved and shifted Dean was there. Silence fell again. Until they arrived in London.

 

It had been a gloomy start to what should have been a pretty exciting trip and a complete change of scene for them both. However, neither of them had spoken for hours. A mixture of frustration and regret on Sams' part. And alcohol and fear on Deans'.

As they collected their baggage, Sam knew he would have to be the one to break the ice. A few years back they had fought over something now long forgotten and they didn't speak for four days. And that was only because Sam had dislocated his shoulder and needed a ride to the ER. Dean would never ever give in. Never. And Sam was tired of it.

“Shall we hire a car?” Sam was practically whispering. He was on dangerous ground. Making amends and suggesting to his brother that he 'cheat' on Baby.

“I ain't driving. It's all you buddy.”

“Fine,” Sam muttered. “I'll find the car hire place in the morning. It's getting pretty late, we should find a hotel.”

“Hey, Big Spender. A motel will do just fine.” 

“Dean, they don't really have motels here. It's a pretty small country, they don't really need them. Although they do have what I read as 'services'. They sell food and drinks. Bathroom facilities..”

Sam continued as his brother looked on wearily, repressing an affectionate smile.

“I mean yeah. I suppose the closest thing would be Bed & Breakfast, but I think a hotel would be easier right now. Unless you wanted to perhaps hire a car now and then find...”

“Woah woah, slow down Tex. A hotel is fine. I need sleep and you need to stop talking.” Dean laughed as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “It's like you're hot on some girl. You always talk too much when you're..” 

Dean trailed off as he realized what he was saying. He dismissed every single last thought and feeling.

“C'mon Sammy. Shit. What a fucking nightmare.”

All Sam could do was shuffle along behind his brother. They had both experienced the weirdest fucked up kind of shit that ordinary people would never face in a lifetime and yet here they were facing the weirdest fucked up shit they had never expected and they hadn't even started on the case.

The hotel they found was pretty standard. No fancier than some of the motels they had stayed in over the years. Jacket and boots still on, Dean jumped onto his single bed and ran examining fingers over the sheets. 

“Not bad, huh?”

“I guess.” Sam shrugged knowing full well his standards were slightly higher than his brothers. “View is pretty good.”

Silence returned like an old enemy as they both went through their personal bedtime rituals. Sam showering and brushing his teeth. Dean stripping off, his clothes left where he stood and then climbing into bed.  
Sam walked out from the bathroom. Towel slung low around his hips. Hair and body still wet. Deep in thought and muttering to himself about witch-trials and demons and ancient old churches.  
Dean sat up a little.

“Jesus.” The word tripped out of his mouth, the second syllable lowered to a whisper.

“Hmm?” Sam smiled innocently at his brother.

“N..Nothing. Not a thing. A sneeze! Caught that bastard in time!” Dean laughed and then rolled his eyes at his stupid comment before huffily turning onto his side and switching off his night-light, leaving his brother in semi-darkness.

“Night then.” Sam frowned.

“Yeah.” It was all Dean could manage. He closed his eyes tightly as if to try to squeeze out any of the thoughts he had just had about his baby brother. 'Cabin fever my ass.' He thought to himself. 'Cabin fever, my freakin' ass!'

Dean woke with a start. He literally jolted himself awake. He had slept heavier than usual, as he rubbed his face he felt deep creases from the pillow mapping across his sweaty cheek. A quick glance around the room. No Sam.   
As he swung his legs around, he groaned. His cock ached, a quick inspection threw up nothing abnormal except a raging boner to end all raging boners.  
Dean had two choices. Put the little guy out of his misery or just wait until he relented.  
As his brother bounded into the room with a new found 'hunter vim' the choice had been made for him.

“Hey,” Dean said awkwardly pulling his blanket over his still hard cock, the base of his hand kneading it surreptitiously. He had to admit, seeing 'normal service Sam' was helping his predicament no end. Normality at last. He beamed at Sam as he spoke. 

“Okay. Hire car is good to go. It's not much but, it's a pretty short drive to the East coast. A couple of hours I guess. I spoke to the British hunter I had been in contact with back home and he is gonna meet us at the church around 5 pm. It will give us a chance to check the place out. Meet the locals.” Sam grinned. 

“Sounds like you've got it all planned out. Can't say I'm looking forward to facing whatever it is we could be facing without our kit. I mean, leaving all that behind. I gotta say, it's tough, man.” Dean, now flaccid and happy grabbed yesterday's clothes from the floor and begun to dress.

“This guy. Andy Halcott, he's pretty much fully kitted out. Limited firearms for obvious reasons.”

Dean shrugged.

“Illegal here, Dean.”

“Oh yeah. Boring. Good work Sammy.” It was a comment Sam had heard countless times. A little patronizing on occasion but welcomed today because today was a normal hunting supernatural stuff day. The possibility of injury or death; high. Beautifully normal!

It had been 30 minutes into the journey and Dean was almost ready to thumb a ride back to Crazy Town.

“Will you stop fuckin' fidgeting'!”

“I can't help it. This car is so small my legs are going dead, Dean!”

“Well, genius. Why didn't you hire a bigger one?”

“This was the biggest one they had.” Sam winced as his kneecap crunched against the steering wheel. 

“Seriously? Man, this country is small. I feel like that giant dude in that kids book.”

“Gulliver?” Sam had to laugh.

“Yeah! We're in freakin' Lilliput Sammy!”

The brothers were now so deeply entrenched within normality neither of them even thought about the stream of awkward and uncomfortable moments which had led them to find themselves in this new and very small country.

Dean was hungry. Without fail, every single time Sam complained about cramp, backache, fuzzy toes, Dean would fire back with woes of near starvation. All with a newly adopted Dick Van Dyke style 'Ello Mary Poppins' accent. Something Sam knew would rear its head eventually. Funny at first, tiresome after the 50th time!

The services they pulled into were pretty standard for what you would expect to find on a motorway. Coffee shop, bathroom facilities and several different places to eat.

Splitting up, Sam wandered off in search of coffee, leaving Dean to grapple with the slightly alien food menu.  
Ten minutes later. Sam returned with a huge steaming cup of coffee, just as Dean turned around clutching a tray.

“This. This is a Full English Breakfast!” 

“It looks like future blocked arteries on a plate, Dean!”

“I've been to hell and back, Sammy. Blocked arteries are a walk in the park! Would you like a bite of my sausage?”

Back on the road. The slowest, busiest road Dean had ever encountered.

“Why the hell did I even agree to this, Sam?” Dean slouched down low, seat belt wrapped around his neck. Arms folded. Sulking.

“You were drunk and agreed we needed a change of scene. It's been weird recently. We need this.”

“What is it with you and weird all of a sudden?” Dean knew. Damn, he had finally gotten to point where he hadn't thought about it. It. 'It' was all he could think about. If he didn't think about just 'it'. He would think about Sam. Beautiful indecent Sam. “Fuck.”

“Twenty minutes should cover it.” Sam closed his eyes briefly. “And we'll be there.”

It was 4 pm and the crisp November day was drawing to a close when the brothers pulled up outside the eerie St Nicholas' Church. Only 3 weeks previously Sam and Dean had dealt with a vampire nest hidden deep within Hells' Kitchen and now they found themselves strangers in a new place. A little nondescript village in England. Unarmed and going in blind.

“You know, Sammy.” Dean unfolded himself out of the car and shot the vehicle some serious shade. “I'd feel a whole lot more comfortable with this if I had something to defend myself with. I did consider using your body as a shield, but I guess I just love it too much.” It was too late, Dean Winchesters' mouth had run away with him again. It was said with such volume and conviction it was one of those few times neither one of them could do anything to gloss over this indiscretion. 

“Andy will be here soon.” Sam was serious and suddenly professional. His stomach, however, was in knots. Not because he was about to walk into an ancient pitch-black building with nothing more than a torch to protect him but because he liked what his brother had just said.

Sam tossed Dean a torch over the roof of the car, then looked down at his while playing about with the switch.

“Why did you say that, Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes and started off for the church. Torch off, huffily weaving in and out of the crumbling gravestones. Sam hurried after him. Tripping on mounds of uneven grass and loose stone.

“Dean!”

His brother wasn't listening. His face was already pressed up against the wooden doors of the church. It was locked.

“Dean,” Sam spoke softly now. “Why did you say that?”

Dean spun around almost knocking Sam off his balance. 

“It was a joke, Sam. Okay? Just a joke. Trying to lighten the mood. Is that okay? And please step back, you're invading my personal space. I'm fuckin' working here!” Dean was verging on furious. Although it wasn't his brother he was furious with. It was himself. Him and his stupid, dirty mouth. 

Sam stepped forward and tugged a button on Deans' jacket.

“Dean.”

“Seriously, dude! Fuck off!”

Sam didn't stop. 

“Please tell me.” Sam pressed himself against his brother. 

Dean held his hands up.

“I swear to God, Sam. Move or I will do something I will regret. Do you understand?” 

“You're a tease.” Sam was pissed.

“Oh yeah? I'm a tease, am I? Do you know what else I am? I'm your fucking brother Sammy.” Dean fumbled about inside his jacket. His small pocket knife suddenly in his hand. The blade slid across his arm slicing into his flesh. Not even so much as a wince. Cherry red blood oozed from the wound. Dean licked it, his eyes a little crazy. “See this.” Saliva and blood spattered Sams' face. “This blood. We share this. It's the same. Do you get that? It's the fucking same!” Dean was now screaming at his brother. Sam remained calm and knew the best way to deal with him was to let himself blow away like a squall at sea.  
He stood tall and just watched as Dean’s breathing calmed. Headlights from over Sams' shoulder glowed around Dean like an aura.  
Andy the British hunter had arrived.

As Andy approached his fellow hunters, he couldn't help but notice things didn't look exactly normal. Sam was stood bolt upright like he had a stick up his ass and Dean still bloody, his face ruddy, his neck lined with prominent veins.

“Sam? Dean?” Andy ran over to them. “What happened? Are you guys okay?”

Dean quick to brush off everything that just happened, wiped a slightly bloody hand down the leg of his pants and then held out a friendly hand.

“We're just great, Andy. I fell, poor Sammy here. Scared the freakin' life out of him. Such a delicate nature!” The fake laugh which followed angered Sam slightly. Who turned to Andy, also smiling. 

“Yeah. He does this. He's a clumsy bastard!” They all laughed like they were just about to become freeze-framed at the end of some trashy 70's comedy show. 

Dean stamped on Sams' left foot then kicked him up the ass with his knee.  
Tension had turned to childish bickering. It was something.

Dean continued to clean his face with the cuffs of his jacket as he and Sam followed Andy around the church, keen to hear more about the witches of Canewdon.

 

Andy folded his arms and leaned backward against his car.

“This place is usually quiet. Never flags up anything despite the history and the superstitions.”

“Superstitions?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Andy laughed to himself. “Legend has it that if you dare to walk anti-clockwise around the church, it will summon the Devil.” Andy laughed again. It sounded even more stupid saying it out loud.

The Winchesters' looked at one another seriously then back at Andy. 

“For us buddy, it ain't that stupid.” Dean was his usual matter-of-fact self again.

Andy frowned, let out a disbelieving chuckle then squinted at Dean.

“Oh come on fellas. The Devil? Seriously?!” Andy shook his head. “I mean, I deal with spooky stuff. Demons. Had a vampire nest once but the idea of the Devil. That's absurd.”

Sam screwed his perfect little nose up tightly and shook his head.

“Well, bloody hell!”

Dean grinned, nudged Sam and mouthed 'Bloody hell!' at him.

“You see, Andy. When it comes to the supernatural, well those guys they seem to love us. Americans, I mean. We have everything you can think of pitching up camp-sites of horror all over the place. Hell, I could list you 20 so-called mythical creatures we've met and killed and you wouldn't believe a word it. And you know we've seen it, man. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here.”

“Sounds like all hell has broken loose over there!” Andy was amazed.

“Buddy, you have no idea! So where is the nearest pub?!” Dean grinned and slung a friendly arm over Andy's shoulder. Over his own shoulder, he winked at Sam.

“Don't be jealous!” He mouthed then laughed at his own cockiness.

As Andy and Dean, now behaving like BFF's, drank and laughed and shared hunting stories. Sam sat quietly near the open fire of the Anchor pub. His beer becoming warmer, his thoughts becoming deeper. 

What was meant to be a hunt had turned into a boys night 'down the boozer', he had heard Andy say.  
Sams' forehead throbbed a little. He had so much going on in his head. His mind was always busy, but now it was full of stupid thoughts. Feelings he didn't want to address and a yearning so deep nothing he did could repress it. He swallowed hard then took a long swig of his warm beer. 'I want Dean.' His eyes prickled with tears slightly as he felt overwhelmed with this internal admittance. He wanted to go.

Sam downed his beer in one, retching at the unpleasant warmth of the liquid.  
“Dean,” He muttered quietly. His brother didn't hear. “Dean!” Sams' voice was suddenly loud and demanding.

“Okay. Sam, I hear ya buddy!” Dean smiled and laughed off the volume of his brothers voice.

“Can we go, please? We need to go.”

“Why? Dean stood up then dragged Sam by his sleeve towards the door and then outside into the brisk November night. “What the hell is wrong with you? I'm working here.”

“Yeah okay, Dean, 'working'. Working on cirrhosis of the liver.”

“You wanna do this now, huh? You wanna talk about whatever this is right here, right now?”

“No,” Sam said firmly, his eyes fixed heavily on his brothers'. “I want to do 'you' in private.”

Dean swallowed and licked his bottom lip. 

“What?” Dean Winchester. The man with an answer to everything could think of nothing else to say.

“I said. I want to do 'you' in private.” Sam enunciated. “If you're greased up enough, man. Just say the word!” Sam was holding his arms out as if was waiting to be crucified by his own brother for even suggesting such things.

Sam stepped back just as Dean bounded towards him, huge strides with meaning. He pushed Sam clumsily down the side of the pub, away from the yellow street lights and the possibility of prying eyes. Sam hit the wall with a bump, his legs tangling around a metal bin. He rubbed the back of his head and again felt his eyes sting with tears.

“Be careful what you wish for little brother.” Dean laid a gentle hand on the center of Sams' chest. His voice was soft and calm. His mouth was so close to Sams', inhaling the warm sweetness of his breath. “If I kissed you, right now, what do you think it would solve, huh?” Sam exhaled over his brothers' mouth, their lips almost touching. 

“F..Fuck, Dean. Please.” This statement was neither one of desire nor a plea to stop.

“I love you, baby. But this can never, ever happen. Okay? I ain't denying anything. I've had thoughts in my head I never want to see again. You're so perfect it makes my heart ache.”

Sam sniffed, his face now wet with tears. He pulled his brother towards him, running his fingers through his short brown hair. Even though it was Sams' arms wrapped around Dean, it was Sam taking the most comfort from the heartbreaking embrace. Sam sobbed quietly as he gripped his brother's body.

“It's okay, Sammy. It's okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is a short stand-alone fic which is really a test for me as to how I felt about writing The Winchesters. I believe in feeling comfortable with your subjects in order to convey to your audience who they are and as far as established characters go, that they are familiar them.  
> I have also had quite lengthy break from fan-fiction writing so needed to stretch my legs with a test piece! So here it is!


End file.
